I was going to write a different post. I just deleted about 300 words on my c-section. About our trip to the hospital, about the hell that is Pitocin, about my doubts and fears and worries. It was a way for me to justify my c-section to all of you.

Which is bullshit.

*THIS POST IS ABOUT ME BEING TRIGGERED INTO A SEVERE ANXIETY ATTACK* 

Please don't read any further if it could trigger you as well. 

Since I've been in recovery there have been a few blog posts that I have avoided reading - even from writers and friends that I love. Sometimes I just knew that there were things I couldn't have in my head right then.

A friend of mine wrote a Facebook post some weeks back that has stuck with me. She said that she keeps having to start over. Or is it getting to start over? And which way should she think of it?

I don't know. I do know that I'm grateful each morning that I get to start over. That I get another chance to be a mother, a girlfriend, a daughter, a sister, a business owner, a friend, an advocate. I get to try once again to pick myself up off the mat, dust myself off and charge into battle.

BUT

I'm scared.

Every time it happens I get scared.

A few days ago I started feeling sick. And then I got scared.  When my body gets sick my vulnerable brain becomes even more vulnerable.

I went to the gym yesterday. On purpose. I really wish you all could hear the MASSIVE sigh that I sighed after writing those two sentences.

For many women it starts before they even know they're pregnant. I had baby names picked out when I was five. I practiced changing diapers, feeding, rocking and  putting my 'baby' to bed. I was ready for sleepless nights and poop everywhere. I got so many things from other moms at my baby shower. It was a wonderful day filled with advice and gadgets, tiny clothes and whispered truths.